cI’m not the kind of person who enjoys leaving the house—or getting up from a horizontal position on the couch—in the dead of winter. I hate the cold. When the sun begins to set early and temperatures drop, I’ll hibernate like an alpine marmot armed with books, streaming services, social media, and a large blanket, not to be seen for weeks at a time.
One winter, during a particularly bad bout of weather, there was a stretch where all I thought of was lounging on an oceanview terrace, somewhere in Italy, eating spaghetti alle vongole.
